The Amber Lake
by Lucky4Track
Summary: Slash/Pre-slash. Dean dreams almost every night, but like most of us, they're forgotten upon waking up. In this one Castiel visits.


God why, _why_ can't I write lately? Not even pure smut makes it past a paragraph. I tried, I really did. Here's a one-shot to keep you guys going until I get over my block.

This is set during sometime between season five and season six.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural or its lovely characters.

**Warnings**: Slash, (some) swearing, the usual good stuff.

* * *

The sun was setting, painting everything from the sky to the landscape an amber hue. Dean found himself on a chair that sat on a dock overlooking the lake he always imagined himself, Sam and his father would go fishing on were they ever a normal family. A serene and peaceful place that never failed to lull him into calmness only a sedative could match.

The air was crisp, filled with the scent of nature as the summer wind flowed over the water. It was as real as the earth was round but in the far reaches of Dean's mind, he knew that it wasn't. This was a dream, but not just any kind; it was a place forged from the scattered remains of what little normalcy the hunter had left. No one else- not even Sam knew of this place, it was his recluse, his very own sanctuary. Who could possibly think to find Dean Winchester so content in a place devoid of strippers and the stray women he had fallen for?

However, Dean recalled this spot wasn't a total secret. Not entirely. "Cas."

Out of the blue, not unlike the first time, the angel stood beside where Dean sat. "What are you doing here? I thought you went back to Heaven."

"Nothing is wrong, if that's what you are worried about." Dean sank back into the chair, shoulders sagging in relief.

"Then why're you here?" He tried his best not to display his distaste over being intruded upon but the last thing Dean wanted was for Castiel to fly off without telling him why he was there in the first place. When an answer didn't come, the hunter turned to the angel, angry retort lying in wait and ready to be spat.

But Castiel was still there, looking somber and far away; the snide comment pushed aside and forgotten, Dean began racking his mind for the appropriate question. Thankfully the angel answered before the silence grew any more inept.

"I can leave if you wish it." Dean silently contemplated his friend, noting that he was avoiding eye contact at all costs; a smile grew deviously over the brunette's lips. Castiel felt guilty about _visiting_ him.

The hunter sipped his beer contently, seeing Castiel face him only from the corner of his eye. Castiel, warrior of heaven, amongst the most devout to God and the first angel to disobey direct orders without loosing his grace; unafraid to risk his very existence for the sake of good was thrown off balance by something as simple as a purposeless visit.

"Naw, you've been here before, no use driving you off. Make yourself at home." Dean returned to admiring the view, and he was about to fall back into blissful ignorance when something caught his attention once more.

"Dude, sit." A flash of realization spread over Castiel as he meekly stepped towards the dock and sat over the edge.

"Do the other jolly rogers' know you're here?" The angel was startled to find Dean taking the spot beside him, even more puzzled to see him pull off his boots, socks and all. If Dean hadn't been busy with the action, he might have caught the frown that dotted Castiel's lips at the mention of other angels.

"… No, um, not presently at least. I… what are you doing?" But the hunter only ginned and dunked his toes into the water.

"Ahh just right." Dean smiled, "You should try it." It took more coaxing gestures from his part but he managed to convince Castiel to do the same. The Winchester swayed his feet in the cool water, watching the angel with halfhearted interest.

"It's nice, isn't it? I know I'm dreaming so I can just chill here until I wake up without worrying about squat." He paused, in no hurry to convey the rest of his thoughts. It didn't really make a difference since Castiel was busy practicing his best mute act.

"Y'know it's kinda weird, ever since you last visited me here, I've had next to no nightmares."

"I agree that it's strange," Castiel began, grabbing the other's attention. The angel's features creased out of what Dean could only guess as concentration. "I can't be sure, but maybe it's because of the bond we share."

"Bond? What kind _bond_ exactly?" Castiel looked as though he would fall silent again, but continued.

"When I was first assigned to protect you, ultimately, it was only meant to last until Michael could take your body. A side effect of this is the moment I took you out of hell, my soul was to be bound to yours until your purpose was served." The angel chanced a look at the other and as expected, Dean no longer sported his stress-free demeanor.

"But…?" The sheer animosity in the hunter's voice was potent enough to wilt flowers.

"But things went differently… the link remains for reasons I am unsure of." Dean inhaled deeply; clearly irritated and Castiel did the same, although his reason for this was that he was elated to be out of the red zone and back onto safer grounds.

"It has plagued me for some time now. Contrary to human beliefs, angels seldom get so involved in matters tied to Earth." The brunette stared blankly; a look he always wore when what was just said made no sense what so ever.

"There's nothing to think about, we're just two guys who went through stuff and are now buds. I mean, most of the time you're as annoying as shit, with the disappearing acts and all but we still got each other's backs." He concluded.

"But I still feel a bond between us; I can sense when certain things happen." Castiel repeated, making Dean wonder if the whole situation really was unusual.

"Like what exactly?" Asked Dean, unsure if he would like any of the answers the angel might have.

"Like all angels, I can hear prayers, if it is God's will, we answer them. But unlike my brothers and sisters, your prayers resonate the loudest to me and me alone. Sam has always prayed for the both of you but the few times you have prayed on your own, intentionally or not, I get the strong urge to listen and do something about it."

"Yeah well where've you been all this time? I can't even count the number of times my sorry ass could have used a little prayer answerin' since I met you." Dean scoffed despite himself.

"It isn't right. It is not my place to decide in the place of the Lord." Castiel stated adamantly, looking somewhat offended. He opened his mouth as if to add something, but changed his mind and lowered his head to stare at the water below him. Dean let out a shrug and moved his own gaze to the seemingly eternal sunset.

"I'm not the most emotionally sensitive guy out there, but I know enough to tell when a person is being bothered by something. If you're this intent on not saying what that is, it's fine by me. You can relax here as long as you want. Mi casa es su… what the?" While the brunette spoke, Castiel had miraculously drifted to sleep. This was made weirder by the fact that the angel ended up leaning against Dean in the process. It was in rare moments like this that the hunter was at a total loss as to what to do. They had a unique friendship but this was a bit much. Even Sam had to play his cards just right to get away with using him a pillow. Moreover, Dean had thought that angels didn't need sleep, let alone while they were in the mind of a human.

But here it was, a perfect example of a sleeping angel.

"Jeez, you're out like a light." Castiel's hands were at his sides and his head rested awkwardly on Dean's shoulder, ceasing all possibility for movement because the slightest shift would mean a soaking Castiel or worst yet, a lap full of angel.

"When is the madness going to end?" Dean did a double take but the angel's eyes were still closed.

"I don't know Cas." He answered, failing to sound any bit comforting, and added meekly: "You really asleep or am I having a totally different sort of dream?"

No answer. Relief poured over the Winchester. It was bad enough he'd dreamt of both angel and demon pole dancers before.

They stayed that way for an undetermined amount of time, as it always went in dreams, time flowed in knots and loops. When a feeling of exhaustion and utter hopelessness sank into Dean's chest, he wondered if the so-called bond between himself and the angel actually existed. A third, more intimate sentiment fell into the mix and Dean was uncomfortable again. Those implications meant something he didn't want to acknowledge so he simply ignored the thought. If Castiel had feelings that surpassed something platonic, it was surely the last thing he had to worry about. Dean was tired, and the loss of Sam left him empty, but the emotions flowing in him at that moment didn't feel like his own. And he may feel at ease by this lake but never before had he felt safe here.

It was all too complicated to think about so Dean did his best to empty his mind and just admire the view until consciousness decides to pull him back to reality.

This was just a dream.

* * *

When Dean awoke, he noticed that it was still nighttime. Yet he felt rested and refreshed; making sure not to wake the sleeping form beside him, Dean crept outside the room and into the bathroom.

What had he dreamed of? Flashes of warm colors and the sense of having found out something very important was nagging at him like a ghost in the fog. He knew it was there but it was next to impossible to pinpoint. Staring at the mirror as he grabbed his toothbrush, something caught the hunter's eye.

On his shoulder there was a slender black feather. Too large to belong to a crow, even when ignoring the fact that it wasn't likely the animal could even get inside the house in the first place.

"The fuck?" Dean grabbed it between his thumb and index finger to examine it closer. Once again the feeling that he should be remembering something vital burrowed itself into his mind.

His named being called snapped him out of it and Dean set the feather on the edge of the sink, where it fell from because of the small draft his movement out the door made. The next morning it was swept away along with the dust and debris and finally tossed into the trash. Quickly forgotten.

* * *

In limbo, somewhere in the maze that was Heaven, Castiel was back home; where chaos and anarchy reined. The war had gotten so bad at this point that nobody had noticed his absence. It was probably for the best, the last thing Castiel wanted was for another angel to follow him into the dream of his guard. The thought of Dean was ever-present in his mind, hanging over him like some piñata ready to burst and rain down shame and mockery.

He could feel Dean even as he braced himself from the attack of an enraged angel, and still he felt the brunette as he swiftly incanted a banishing spell. For the past few months, the hunter was less stressed, perhaps even content. It was a large contrast to how Castiel was doing and he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. But the angel quickly fought the sin; envy is what had started this whole mess.

It wasn't Dean's fault that he made him feel this way. The hunter had even offered for him to visit him again.

It was something to look forward to- the only thing he _could_ look forward to, and Castiel wasn't about to let that go. The hope that stemmed from that grew and instilled faith back into his heart. He was going to stop this; he would make his brothers see how pointlessly they were all behaving.

One day, he would see that soothing amber lake again, and not have to worry about how many of his brothers have died because of how a human had made him feel.


End file.
